


Not A Morning Person

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: Early call-out for the lads





	Not A Morning Person

Groaning, Doyle buried his face in his pillow while ignoring the voice emanating from the R/T in his jacket pocket – said jacket pocket being on the hallway floor, halfway between his bed and the lounge. He couldn’t remember how it got there.

“Good Morning!” Bodie smacked him on the arse.

“If it was a good morning I’d still be asleep.” His wriggled his bum. “Never could trust anyone who is cheerful before 9 am.”

“C’mon. Wakey, wakey, sunshine!” A heavy weight settled on the side of the bed, rolling him closer to the edge of the mattress. Something was pressed into his hand.

“4.5!”

“Is that Cowley?” He raised his head from the pillow blinking owlishly at the object in his hand. “Bloody hell, the sun’s not even up yet.”

“This is London, mate,” Bodie reminded him.

Doyle glared and took the R/T. “4.5 here.”

“And about time,” the Scottish accent held more than a touch of displeasure.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Where’s your partner – he’s also not answering.”

Doyle raised questioning eyebrows at the man sitting on his bed.

_’It’s in the car.’_ Bodie mimed and shrugged.

Doyle sighed and opened the R/T. “I’ll round him up, sir.”

“See that you do.” There was no lessening of the irritation in the voice. “My office in thirty minutes. Both of you.” And Cowley was gone.

“Good morning to you too, sir,” Doyle mumbled.

“A firm believer in the early bird is our George,” Bodie declared.

“Don’t think Cowley is interested in worms,” Doyle said as he tried to climb out of bed. He found his legs, well one of them anyway, all tangled up in his pyjama bottoms. He noted, puzzled, that he was wearing only one sock, his t-shirt was hanging on the bed’s headboard and Bodie’s pants were decorating the lamp.

“A bloody freight train, you are,” Doyle groused.

“As I recall, you didn’t have any complaints last night,” Bodie said with a bit of a pout.

Doyle’s gaze turned to the rumpled bed and he smiled cheekily. “Was good, wasn’t it.”

“I always am.” Bodie stood up. “So, thirty minutes,” he rubbed his hands together in a manner that didn’t augur well for getting to HQ anytime soon. “Enough time for a quick wank in the shower.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“And _you_ love-”

“I do.” Doyle cupped a darkly stubbled cheek and slid his tongue along Bodie’s lower lip. He led him into the bathroom. Studying himself in the mirror, he pointed out the red marks Bodie had left on his chest. “Missed a spot, you did.” He tapped his left collarbone. 

“Hmm,” Bodie kissed the neglected shoulder. “Was saving it for later.”

Doyle grimaced as he bent over to remove his single sock. “Well, next time, let’s try to get _all_ me clothes off, yeah?”


End file.
